


Tempus Anima

by notahotlibrarian



Series: Evil Author Day 2021 [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU: Dimensional Travel, Aunt Cassie meddles in things, Dimensional Travel, Evil Author Day, Mentions of PTSD, Multi, Soulmates, Triad - Freeform, mentions of depression, ruthless!Hermione
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29484642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notahotlibrarian/pseuds/notahotlibrarian
Summary: Cassiopeia Black is concerned about the future of her House. Her great-nephew is the Patriarch, and his adopted son is the Heir.  While both are fine wizards, she knows that the House of Black will need a true Matriarch in the future to come.Cassiopeia Black is many things: clever, cunning, vicious, family-oriented. What she most definitely is not is patient.  So instead of waiting for Harry Potter to find a wife, she decides to summon one instead. Along with one for the other Black Heir, because she's a generous witch, too.She gets both less - and more - than she bargained for when Hermione Granger appears.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Evil Author Day 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2165199
Comments: 41
Kudos: 121





	Tempus Anima

**Author's Note:**

> I'm snowed in, I'm going through my rough drafts folder, and I'm posting anything that is complete enough to qualify as a chapter. If you like any of these, please comment!
> 
> The premise of this fic: a (mostly)book!verse Hermione is pulled into an alternate dimension thanks to Cassiopeia Black and a strange artifact.
> 
> Happy Evil Author Day, y'all.

Some days Hermione was convinced that her night time routine was the only thing keeping her sane.

She would come home from the pub where she worked as a waitress, usually smelling of ale, greasy chips, and cigarette smoke. She would drop her apron by the door and strip out of her clothes on a direct path to the bathroom. She'd shower, soaking up the hot water with whatever measly water pressure she could eke out. After showering, she'd lotion her face and body, brush her teeth, trim her nails and pluck her brows as needed. She'd take the host of vitamins and supplements in the regimen she'd cobbled together: D and C, E for her still-healing skin, calcium for her fucked-up bones, iron to make up for her shitty diet, and melatonin in an attempt to help her sleep through the night. She'd strap her infamous bag back to her leg, the disillusionment still holding strong even after all that time.

After all that, she'd leave the tiny bathroom in her studio-sized flat and sit down on the bed to start the process of managing her hair. It took copious amounts of hair oil and patience to work through the curls and knots, but once it was all combed straight her hair fell past the bottom of her rib cage. She'd plait it back before dressing in her pajamas, closing the light-blocking curtains, and climbing into bed to hope for sleep to come.

It had been seven years since the end of the war, and five since she was excommunicated from the wizarding world, and yet the nightmares still came and Bellatrix's cursed blade still bit at her skin.

Whenever the Wizengamot had bound her magic, they hadn't done a very good job. As a result, Hermione had just enough magic left in her core that she burned through Muggle medicines before they could do what they were supposed to do - but not enough enough left that she could take potions and have them work. That is, if she could get her hands on potions - but her binding had also involved spelling her out of magical establishments.

She'd saved the world, and she'd still been thrown out when she refused to follow along with their marriage mandates.

But that was old history, and she refused to dwell on it. Dwelling only led to dreams, and dreams were never good.

As she sat down on her bed that night to start working on her hair, Hermione glanced at the one photo she kept out in her flat. She'd pulled the image from her memories, with Luna's help, only a few days before everything fell apart. In it, she and Harry swayed gently together in the tent, just the two of them facing the world. Most of the time, the Harry in the image kept his back to her, as if he knew how much it hurt to see his face.

Seven years since she'd lost him, won the war but lost him, and that wound ached more than the words carved into her arm. She'd still wake in the middle of the night and look for his messy hair, strain her ears to hear him mutter to himself as he studied the map.

Tonight, however, the photo-Harry twirled so that he faced Hermione. He gave her a smile before pulling photo-Hermione closer to him, a hand burying in her curls in a way she'd always wished for him to do.

Mesmerized, Hermione stared at the photo.

Photo-Harry seemed to look straight at her, before turning his gaze pointedly to the side of the frame. Hermione followed his gaze and saw a small box, wrapped in paper of the palest jade and tied with a velvety-black ribbon, resting on her pillow.

Hermione, ignoring her dripping hair that was begging to be tamed, grabbed the ribbon and tugged. The ribbon and paper fell away with a silvery flash of magic that set off every warning bell in Hermione's head.

But curiosity had always been her favorite vice. 

Hermione opened the box.

Inside lay a silver watch. It looked like a pocket watch that someone had shrunk down to a ladies' size and then attached a chain-style wristband to. The face of the watch was a solid ebony, with no numbers but instead a tiny emerald at the three o'clock and a tiny ruby at the nine. The hands were delicately carved out of mother-of-pearl, and they both rested precisely on the twelve, not moving. The watch was as silent as the grave - no ticking, no tocking, not even a whirring of gears.

Like Aurora reaching for the spindle, Hermione slipped the watch onto her wrist with seemingly no input from her rational brain.

The moment she latched the wristband, the watch hands started spinning. Each went in opposite directions, circling and circling and circling.

Hermione felt a hook behind her navel - a long-forgotten feeling - 

and then she disappeared.

* * *

"I thought you said I couldn't get a stripper for boys' night," Blaise said, his voice cutting through Draco's intense study of the cards in his hand.

Sighing, Draco laid his cards down on the table. "Really, Blaise? This again? No, no strippers. I'm not interested in whatever Knockturn slag you'd drag in."

"Then explain that," Blaise replied, jerking his chin at something over Draco's shoulder.

Curious, Draco - along with Theo Nott, who was currently the only other one at their poker night - turned to look over his shoulder at whatever had caught Blaise's interest.

His jaw dropped and, without thinking, he slid his wand out of his wrist holster.

There, in the corner of the first floor drawing room of the heavily warded Grimmauld Place, stood a half-naked woman with her back to them. Barefoot and barely covered by a towel, her wet hair dripped onto the antique carpet. Before Draco could even get a word out of his mouth, she spun and gave the three of them a truly _furious_ glare.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?!" she shrieked. "I don't know how you found me, but you and I both know that I _cannot_ be here. Now send me back before your father sees me and tries to kill me. Again."

Draco's mouth opened and closed silently for several moments. Finally, he managed to cobble together enough brain cells to form a sentence. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

She huffed. "Not funny, Malfoy. Send me back, _now_."

"How did you get through these wards?" Draco questioned her, glancing at first Blaise and then Theo out of the corner of his eye. Blaise was too busy admiring the woman's undressed state, but Theo had his wand out and his Unspeakable badge in hand. Draco figured that he'd messaged for some backup, so he focused back on the woman. "They're Black family wards," he said warningly as he and Theo slowly advanced towards her.

The woman glanced around, seemingly taking in her surroundings for the first time. "Are we at Grimmauld Place?" she asked curiously. "How did you break my Fidelius?" 

"Your Fidelius?" Draco repeated, shocked. "Miss, I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you do not have control of these wards." He pointed his wand at her, aiming steadily at her face. "Now tell me how you got through them."

Instead of being threatened by him, she looked confused as she stared at his wand. No, not his wand, Draco realized after a moment, but at his forearms.

"No mark," she whispered to herself. She pulled her left arm in towards her body, grasping it tightly with her right hand. "No mark?" she repeated, her tone questioning.

Before Draco could ask what mark she was talking about, the floo flared to life and his great-aunt Cassiopeia popped out. "Oh, good!" she said with a demented smile, clapping her hands together. "It worked! Now, let me see which one you belong to," Cassie said, reaching for the other woman's wrist.

As soon as Aunt Cassiopeia's fingers brushed against her skin, the woman freaked out, for lack of a better term. Magic crackled through her hair and rolled over her skin as her aura flared. She twisted in Cassiopeia's grasp and faster than Draco could see had a knife tucked under the older witch's chin.

"Take. Your hands. Off. Of me," the strange woman growled.

Draco, Theo, and Blaise all instinctively shot spells at the witch in an attempt to protect Cassiopeia Black. However, the spells bounced ineffectually off of a shield that surrounded the woman like a dome, trapping her and Cassiopeia inside its arch.

Cassiopeia, ignoring the knife at her throat and spellfire raging around her as the three young men sought to break the shield, cast her gaze down and studied the silver watch around the younger woman's wrist. Originally a gift to Cassiopeia from her own grandmother, the elder witch had modified and enchanted the watch into an artifact of her own design - an invention she may be the most proud of in her long life. She took in the two gemstones, the two hands - one spinning and one standing still - and gasped.

"A triad!" Cassiopeia exclaimed delightedly. "Oh, how exciting, we haven't had a triad in the House of Black since 1734. This is truly momentous," she said, smiling first at the woman - who had lowered her blade slightly in confusion - and then at Draco. "Draco, come here, child," she said, motioning for him to step inside the dome.

"Uh, Aunt Cassiopeia, maybe you should come over here," Draco said, holding his hand out to the older woman. When Cassiopeia refused to move, Draco turned towards Theo. "You did page Regulus, right?" he muttered lowly. 

Theo nodded. "He should be here shortly - my page registered as read," he murmured back.

"Draco!" Cassiopeia said sharply. Draco recognized that tone - his mother had one very similar. It was apparently a specialty for the daughters of the House of Black: a tone that said _do what I tell you or so help me Morgana I will imprison you in a tree_. 

"Aunt Cassiopeia!" he hissed, tone equally sharp. "Get over here, _now_."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes but gamely let go of the woman and moved out of the dome. "Draco, honestly, you're as jumpy as your father. I summoned her here. She's your soulmate," she said casually, dropping that bomb like it wouldn't completely change Draco's life. "Yours and Harry's."

The floo flared again, and thankfully Draco's godfather stepped out of it this time. "I beg your pardon, Aunt Cassiopeia, but did you just say that you summoned Draco and Harry's soulmate?" Senior Unspeakable Regulus Black said incredulously as he cleaned ash off his robes.

"Yes, do keep up," she said impatiently. Turning her attention back to the strange witch, Cassiopeia fired off a string of questions. "Now, who are your family, dear, and where did you attend school? Beauxbaton, I'm assuming. I don't recognize you from the boys' class, nor from any of the debutante balls in their age range. You aren't already betrothed, are you? I don't see any jewelry, but you are a little old to still be a single witch."

The witch - his _soulmate,_ apparently - backed away from them and towards the wall, eyes shifting as if assessing for threats as she ignored Cassiopeia's attempted interrogation.

"Mr. Zabini, Mr. Nott, I think it would be best if you two returned to your own homes. This is House business," Regulus said firmly, taking the rapidly devolving scene in hand.

Theo nodded respectfully at his supervisor, but Blaise just laughed. "The House of Black, always causing drama."

"Shut up," Draco muttered, glaring at his friend. Blaise just wiggled his fingers in a sarcastic wave before stepping into the floo, Theo right behind him.

Regulus exhaled noisily, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, and Draco had to agree with him.

"What do we do?" Draco asked a little hysterically.

"The only thing we can do," Regulus said, shrugging. "Call in the House."

Regulus lifted his wand, and Draco copied his movement. Touching the two wandpoints together, the two wizards quietly intoned.

_Familia nigrae ad mea, familia nigrae ad mea, familia nigrae ad mea...._

There was a moment of silence, of heavy pressure, like before a humidly roiling thundercloud breaks into storm. Cassiopeia reveled in the pressure, but their mysterious guest shivered violently, hands curling into tight fists as she backed as far away from the three Blacks as could get.

The storm suddenly broke.

Waves of magic flowed over them, familiar and strong, as the House of Black all apparated into Grimmauld Place. Their Patriarch appeared first, his consort standing steadily at his back. Draco's mother was next, followed a few moments later by her sister. Minutes passed before the last two Blacks appeared, Teddy half-asleep in Dora's arms.

"What's going on?" Sirius asked, panic coloring his voice. "Where's Harry?"

"He's still in France, testifying on that ICW case," Draco reassured the Lord Black. "For once, this isn't about him - at least, not entirely," Draco said wryly.

Sirius' quicksilver eyes, so like Draco's own, quickly studied the room, taking in the still maniacally-grinning Cassiopeia, Regulus' exhausted posture, what Draco was certain was a shell-shocked expression on his own face, and the strange woman in their midst. "What happened this time?"

Cassiopeia started to speak, but Sirius cut her off with a raised hand. "Reggie first," he ordered.

"Apparently, Cassiopeia took it upon herself to summon Draco's soulmate," Regulus said.

"Draco _and_ Harry's!" Cassiopeia interjected.

"Oh, Draco!" his mum said delightedly, rushing to his side to give him a hug. "A triad! The House of Black hasn't had a triad since-"

"-since 1734! Just think of the rituals they'll be able to cast," Cassiopeia interrupted again.

"Quiet!" Sirius ordered, family magic lacing his tone and forcing all of their jaws to close. Cassiopeia glared mulishly at their Patriarch, but Draco just slumped into his mum's embrace.

In the silence that filled the room, they could all suddenly hear the strange woman muttering to herself. "They're dead, they're dead," she repeated to herself, eyes darting frantically between Sirius, Remus, and Dora. "This is just a dream, they're still dead, they're still dead." She dug the heels of her hands into her eyes before blinking at them, circled around her. "No, no no no no. They're dead," she said emphatically.

Sirius and Remus exchanged worried glances, and at a nod from the Patriarch the Consort stepped towards the young woman. "I'm so sorry, miss," Remus said gently, every inch the mild-mannered professor he was at Hogwarts, "that you've gotten tangled up in our Family mess. Why don't you tell us your name, and we'll get this straightened out and you back home?"

She stared at him incredulously. "You don't know who I am?"

Remus tilted his head. "Should I?"

She tugged the hem of her towel down. "Moony," she pleaded.

Draco saw Remus' eyes flash gold, just for a moment, but the woman reacted as if he'd pointed a wand in her face. A snarl overtook her features as she jerked her right fist to chest-height, a whip of flame growing out of her hand and trailing down to the ground.

Draco moved quickly, herding his mother towards where Dora had put Teddy down on the couch and casting a shield in front of them. Dora did the same with her mother as Regulus pushed Cassiopeia in their direction while Sirius moved towards his husband.

"Put down the wand," Sirius commanded.

"I hate magic," she said lowly. "It's given me nothing but pain since I entered this world and even though I left it still tortures me."

"Put. Down. The wand."

"You're _dead_ ," the woman said emphatically, grip still tight on her flame whip. "You're both _dead_ and I am so tired of dreaming of _ghosts_."

Regulus shouldered his way past Remus and Sirius and stared at the girl, his jaw slack. "Salazar," he whispered. "She didn't just summon you, did she? She pulled you through dimensions."

The woman's gaze focused in on Regulus. "Send me back," she pleaded with him. "Please don't make me live with ghosts," she begged. "Please send me back."

"I...don't think we can," Regulus said slowly. He glanced over his shoulder at Cassiopeia, who just gave him an insolent shrug.

"Nope," Cassiopeia said stubbornly. "I'm not going to send her back. We needed a future Lady Black, to ensure the continuation of the line, and I got one," she said, unrepentant. 

The woman's face, once soft and begging, turned hard in a moment. "Send me back, or I swear to God I'll bring your entire House down," she threatened.

"Why do you want to go back, you stupid girl? I brought you to your _soulmates_ ," Cassiopeia griped.

The woman snapped her wrist, her flame whip wrapping around Sirius' wrist and dragging him to the edge of the ward that flickered around her. With a whispered spell, she shoved her left hand into his chest and withdrew a pulsing ball of light. Ignoring the gasping, rapidly paling Sirius who had dropped to her feet, she held the ball of light over her right hand, where the whip had coalesced into a fireball. She let the edges of the fireball tease the back of her knuckles, and Sirius started to sweat.

"The House of Black owes me a great debt," she said, and the truth of that magic sent cold fingers down Draco's spine. Down the spine of every Black present as they all watched with matching wide, gray eyes as the woman held the life-force of their Patriarch hostage. "I could ask for the total annihilation of your House and it still would not be enough," the woman said coldly. "Your House has _ruined_ me, and you expect me to provide its next heirs? I'd rather slit my own wrists." The woman's aura flared ominously around her, like the haze around fiendfyre, and blood started to drip from her nose.

What could they say? There was nothing that would fix this, nothing that could save their House. Cassiopeia's selfish, old-fashioned desire for a true, blood-born heir - not blood adopted, like Harry, and not the heir to another House, like Draco - had brought destruction into their midst.

Where was a savior when you needed one?

The floo flared again, and a dark-headed man stumbled out. Ashes were stuck in his messy hair, and dark circles ringed his bright green eyes, and his hand gripped his holly wand tightly. "What's going on?" Harry Potter asked in a commanding tone, his gaze instantly zeroing in on Draco's in the crowded room.

"It seems Aunt Cassiopeia has dragged our soulmate in from another dimension, and she's not very happy about that," Draco said dryly.

"Aunt Cassie's not happy?"

"No, our soulmate isn't," Draco said, jerking his head towards the woman backed into the corner of the room.

Harry turned quickly, taking in the scene. He instantly knelt by his godfather, and Draco could see him pushing magic towards the man in an effort to save him.

"H-Harry?" the woman asked, falling to her knees as well. "You-you-you're alive?" She stumbled over the words as if they were too impossible to say.

Harry, the stupidly compassionate man he was, did not yell or curse or hex her like Draco would have if she'd held his godfather's life hostage. Instead, in his gentlest, speaking-with-a-victim tones, he asked her politely, "Please, let Sirius go." He studied her, and as the moment stretched out, Draco studied her too.

She looked to be about their age, but something about her eyes seemed much, much older. They were a deep brown, but the lines around them spoke to a lifetime of too much stress and not enough laughter. Her hair had dried into wild curls, wild enough to make the Black curls look tame. She was tanned, with the faintest dusting of freckles across her nose and the tops of her bare shoulders.

What caught Draco's attention, though, was the tail end of a scar he could see on her chest. It was an unusual purple color that spoke to some sort of dark spell being used, but its placement suggested that it should have killed her, if it was dark enough to leave that kind of scar.

"Harry," she whispered, just staring at him. "You're alive," she repeated.

For the first time since she'd shown up in his drawing room, Draco thought about what the woman had said. _They're dead_ and _you're alive_ and _I don't want to live with ghosts_. What kind of world did she come from, his apparent soulmate? A world where (presumably) at least Harry, Sirius, Remus and Dora were dead? A world where a woman of roughly twenty-five had scars like a seasoned auror, and the reflexes to match? 

A world where his father had tried to kill her, if what she'd said when she first appeared was true.

While he was lost in thought, Cassiopeia inserted herself in the middle of things, again. "Well, girl?" she said impatiently. "Are you still certain you want to go back?" she asked smugly, a cruel little smirk playing about her mouth like she already knew she'd won.

The woman's jaw tightened, and Draco could almost see the conversation she was having with herself. After a long, fraught, moment, she extinguished the flame and let Sirius' life-force return to him. With a quiet dignity that belied her half-dressed state, she rose to her feet and gave Cassiopeia a coolly measuring look before turning to Regulus. "I am going to sleep," she announced regally. "In the morning, if I have not awoken out of this nightmare in my own bed, we will discuss the differences between your world and mine. I suggest," she said primly, "that you look into the possibility of returning me to my home."

And before any of them could argue otherwise, she swept from the room. Draco could hear her climb the stairs and walk unerringly down the hall to the guest bedroom, almost as if she'd been to Grimmauld Place before.

Sirius cleared his throat as he stood, and Draco pulled his attention to the Patriarch as Harry came to stand by his side. "Cassiopeia, explain yourself. Now," he commanded.

Cassiopeia made a thoughtful face. "Shan't," she said, before apparating away.

Sirius groaned at her disappearance. "For fuck's sake," he muttered. "Okay, what do we do now?"

Remus, ever the brains of the two, stepped forward. "Dora, take Teddy to your parents and stay there. Andi, you go with her, but we'll need Ted with his kit whenever the girl wakes up." Mother and daughter nodded, and left quietly through the floo.

Sirius took over then. "Reggie, go make sure that the DoM didn't register the magic as something illegal. Knowing Cassie, whatever she did is probably borderline dark. We don't need them poking their nose in our business, yet. See if you can find out the protocol for dimensional travelers, if there is any. Cissa..." he trailed off.

"I will get the poor girl some clothes," his mother said. "She showed up in a towel and none of you _heathens_ even offered her a robe," she said, offended.

"I'm not in the habit of being kind to people who try to kill me," Sirius growled.

Narcissa sniffed imperiously. "Maybe if you were, less people would try to kill you," she suggested. With a toss of her hair, she flounced to the fireplace and flooed away.

Sirius turned to Harry and Draco. "Pup, what are you doing back? Draco said you were in France."

Harry shrugged. "Felt the family magic," he said. He glanced sideways at Draco. "I could feel how freaked out you were," Harry muttered.

Draco shifted nervously, and Harry wrapped an arm around his waist. "I wasn't freaked out," Draco said petulantly.

"Did either of you notice anything about her? Did Cassie say anything about _how_ she got her here?"

Draco shook his head in the negative, but Harry spoke. "She had a....bracelet of some sort around her wrist, maybe a watch? I dunno, it just felt odd to have that on, considering her, uh...clothes, situation," Harry finished awkwardly, a flush coloring his cheeks.

"Aunt Cassiopeia does have a fondness for enchanted jewelry," Regulus mused. "I'll check the archives for any artifacts that could do something like this, too." With that, he apparated away, presumably to the Department of Mysteries.

"I'll go get us some clothes," Remus said, once he'd left. "I'm presuming we're staying the night here?" he questioned his husband.

"You're damn straight we're staying here," Sirius said forcefully. With that, Remus flooed back to their manor, while Sirius stomped upstairs, muttering to himself.

Finally left alone, Draco turned towards Harry. "What the fuck?" he said with a hysterical little laugh.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco's waist, and Draco mirrored his actions. "We're soulmates," Harry whispered reverently, resting his forehead against Draco's.

"Sappy bastard," Draco said fondly. "I missed you."

"Now who's the sappy bastard?" Harry joked as he pulled Draco in for a kiss. Draco eagerly kissed him back for a moment before pulling back. "What about her?"

"What about her?" Harry asked, confused.

"Potter, she just tried to kill your father-figure. Surely you're not _that_ forgiving," Draco said, raising his eyebrows.

Harry shrugged. "If I got pulled out of this dimension into one with, I dunno, my parents and like, Grandpa Artie, I'd probably be pretty freaked too. Especially if some crazy lady told me I couldn't go home."

"Bleeding heart Gryffindork," Draco said, shaking his head as he turned them and led Harry towards the stairs.

"Heartless snake," Harry parried back, their childhood insults now fond nicknames between them.

"I wonder who she is," Draco murmured as they passed the door to the guest room she'd gone into.

"Ours," Harry said firmly, fingers trailing over the door knob to the guest room as they continued on to their room.

"Ours," Draco agreed.


End file.
